


Love In Between the Lace

by orphan_account



Series: Trans Girl Frank AU (Or: I'm Really Gay) [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cis Girl!Gerard, Coming Out, F/F, Multi, Trans Girl!Frank, Unintentional coming out, being outed, im sorry but i needed this, it;'s good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:05:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: transgirl!frank collection featuring a few standalones and generally disjointed chapters following a vague storyline. (used to be called "this does have frerard in it now it's in chapter two and they're in lesbians together it's lovely")





	1. Secrets Hidden in Polka-Dot Fabric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie reveals a secret (unwillingly.)

“Bye, Frank!” Frankie’s mother called out, waving goodbye to her “son.”

 

Frankie smiles in return, mouthing goodbye, but not looking away from the movie she’s watching. She can hear the car door slamming shut, and the start of the car. She cautiously gets up, knowing her mom sometimes comes back into the house unexpectedly. 

 

When she hears the garage close, she turns off the TV, jumping from the couch. She bolts up the stairs to her mother’s room, flying towards the few hours of happiness she’ll have. 

 

Rifling through her mother’s closet, she pulls out her favorite dress, a black one with white polkadots in the swinger style that has a sweetheart neckline and helps her figure. She pulls out some pantyhose and her second favorite shoes (her favorites are being worn by her mother), kitten heels with the little white bow at the tips. 

 

She pulls off her shirt and pajama pants, pulling on a pair of smuggled panties she keeps in her pocket. She goes through her mom’s top drawer, finally finding her mom’s oldest (and smallest) bra. She writhes around, struggling to clasp it. After finally managing to hook the two ends together, she stuffs the bra with her socks. 

 

Frankie struggles into pantyhose that are just a hair too tight, pulling on the dress swiftly afterwards. Slipping into the heels, she looks in the mirror, smiling. Her haircut is choppy, and falls down at chin length, curling outwards. 

 

To complete the look, she takes some of her mom’s red lipstick and smears it onto her lips. She pops them, winking at herself in the mirror. Smiling, she sprays on perfume and works her hair into two braids. She then steps back, twirling and admiring herself. 

 

After catching a glimpse of her mom’s Beatles record, she decides to pop into the record player. Cranking it up to full volume, she spins around the room, making swishing movements with her hands. Her heels make clopping sounds against the wooden floor of the room, and she smiles every time she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. 

 

Her bliss is shortly interrupted by the sound of the garage door closing. She runs to the stereo, desperately slamming her palm against the ‘off’ button. She dashes out of the door, diving into her room just as her mom opens the garage door. 

 

“Silly me, I forgot my wallet! Oh, good, you stopped watching the TV.”

 

Frankie breathes heavily, her back pressed to the side of the bed facing away from the doorway. Too late, she realizes she left her pajamas in her mom’s room. 

 

She can hear her mom clip-clop up the stairs, open the creaking door, and- 

 

“Sweetie, why are your pajamas in here? Why were you even in here? Frank?” she calls out. 

 

“I- um,” she swallows, “I was just-” 

 

“Frank, are you okay?” 

 

Her mom is slowly making her way to Frankie’s room. Whimpering, Frankie shrinks down lower, trying to reach her boxers so she can change into them, but she fails this task. 

 

“Honey, I’m worried. I’m coming in, okay?”

 

Frankie begins to shake, her door opening. She scoots into the very corner, trying to make herself as small as possible. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, her shaking and in a corner, and her mom discovering her like this. Then probably kicking her out. 

 

“M-mom, g-go away,” her shoulders begin to shake. 

 

Ms. Iero rounds the bed, Frankie’s pajamas in hand, “Fran- oh, honey.”

 

Frankie looks up, her lipstick smudged all over her face. She wipes her nose, sniffling, before shoving her head down onto her knees again. 

 

“Leave me al-alone, mom. I’m- I’m,” before she can get her sentence out, her mom has dropped the pajamas, embracing her in a giant hug. 

 

“Frankie, you know I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. An Unintentional Restaurant Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gee sees Frankie in a restaurant and chaos ensues.

The bell dings above the door as new diners enter the restaurant. Picking up her pad of paper and pen, Frankie slips off the counter and heads out of the kitchen to greet them. 

She slides over to the table, flipping open the cover of the pad and uncapping her pen. 

"Hello, I'm Frank, I'm gonna be your wai-" she cuts off when she looks up and sees Gee, her eyes trained on Frankie, "I'm gonna be your- uh... your waiter..."

 

Gee had never seen Frankie when she was forced to pass as male, and the sight unnerved her. She had a bit of a scruff, even though she was only seventeen. Her hair was pulled back into a greasy bun, and she was wearing a black button-up and slacks. The entire table was silent, as Donna and Mikey notice Frankie. 

"Frankie?" Mikey was the first to break the silence.

"I.. um... I'll be right back.

 

"Jones, Jones- listen, man, I can't take this table. I need you to take 'em. Please, man."

Jones did nothing to help Frankie, just shaking his head at her. She looked completely dismayed, her shoulders slumping. 

She drags her feet all the way out of the kitchen, sighing to the table again. Before she reaches Gee, she straightens her posture, pulls on a smile, and pulls out her pad and her pencil. 

"Hello, I'm Frank, I'm gonna be your waiter today. Are you ready to order your drinks?" she runs through the basic structure she was taught during training, attempting to keep her composure. 

"I- um," Gee stutters out, "I'll have the water. Yeah, I'll have the- the tap water, from the tap. Water." 

Frankie smiles at Gee, writing her order down. 

"And how about you?" she nods towards Mikey, her smile still painfully wide and painfully fake.

"Same," he slouches down into his seat. 

Frankie looks towards Donna, who just smiles and nods her head towards her children. Frankie writes down 'water, x3' on her paper pad. 

"Alright, here are your menus. I'll come back in a little to get your orders!" she smiles one more time, flipping around and rushing to the kitchen. 

Bursting through the doors, she loses all of her cool and collected facade, dropping to the floor next to Jones, her head in between her knees. 

"Dude, it's just a table, calm down. Why the fuck are you so stressed all the sudden, man?" Jones asks. Frankie just lifts her head, groaning at him, before placing her head back in her previous position. 

Just then, the doors to the kitchen open, Gee stalking in. She slinks over, unnoticed, dropping down next to Frankie. Frankie jumps when an unexpected arm is slung over her shoulder, and she jolts her head up. Looking to her side, she sees Gee, and seems even more shocked. 

"Genevieve? What are you doing in the kitchen?" she asks. 

"Ooooooh, is that your  _girlfriend,_ Frank?" Jones teases.

"Fuck off, Jones," Frankie bites back. Gee is surprised by the low gruffness of her voice that isn't usually present when they're together. 

Leaning in to Frankie, she whispers, "Frankie, baby, are you not out to them yet?" 

Frankie shakes her head miserably, and Jones can tell he isn't needed here, and he slinks off to go bother some other poor staff member. 

"I just- Gee, I don't want you to see me like this. I'm not- I'm so ugly, and I look like a guy, and you probably don't even love me anymore, because you're a lesbian, and I'm just- I'm, I'm- fuck." 

"Do you really think I'm that shallow, Frankie? I fell in love with you, not your genitals or the fact that you don't have boobs," there's a glaring bite to her tone, and Frankie recoils. 

"No- I just, I get so fucking- fucking dysphoric, because I- god, and I just want it to stop and I can't help- I can't help-"

"Finish your fucking sentences, Frankie," Gee yells, and they are both standing now. All of the kitchen staff have stopped their tasks to watch the domestic occuring right in front of them. 

"I can't help it! I just- I can't!" she yells, her voice easily a yell. 

"You can't fucking help what?" 

"I CAN'T HELP THAT I'M FUCKING TRANS, OKAY?" she yells. Immediately, regret takes over her features, a hand clapped over her mouth. 

Gee turns to the rest of the kitchen slowly, shock and fear clearly written all over her face. The rest of the kitchen staff stare back, dumbfounded. 

"Oh shit..." Gee says. 

Frankie turns tail, fleeing out of the back door of the kitchen. Gee, after a few stricken moments, follows. Once both have left, Jones turns to the rest of the kitchen. 

"Um... what the fuck just happened?" The rest of them shrug. 

The mushrooms being cooked catch fire. 

 

Breathing heavily, Frankie puts on the standard black button-up shirt, this time donning a bra and a skirt with it. She has red lipstick and winged eyeliner on. She's clean-shaven, her hair pulled back in two braids. Gee stands behind her, arms wrapped around Frankie's torso. 

"I'm sorry I made you out yourself."

"No- it's- it's fine, if they don't like it, they can go fuck themselves," Frankie says, pulling the apron around her waist, tucking her paper pad and pen into the pocket. 

 

The entire drive there, Frankie is nervous. In front of the restaurant, she pecks Gee on the lips, grabbing her hand. 

"Well, this is it. Judgement day." 

She opens the door, strutting in. Nobody is in the restaurant but the costumers. She walks to the kitchen, hesitating in front of the doors. Letting out a heavy breath, she pushes in. 

The kitchen staff send her a brief glance, but turn back to their cooking once they see her.

"So," Jones says, slinking over to her, "can I watch you and your hot girlfriend have sex?"

She shoves Jones playfully. 

"Creep."

Everything would be okay. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeet im sorry but i love this 
> 
> (this is gonna be the end nothing else thanks)
> 
> (actually look at me the big fat liar i am actually gonna be turning this into an entire series thanks)
> 
> this is completely unedited so if you think it's shit i don't care


	3. What I Didn't Know Is How Much I Hate Realizing Things Around You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A standalone where Frank dresses as a girl to be Jamia's friend and try and see if Jamia likes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at the beginning (before frank finds out they're a trans girl) i'm gonna be using he/him pronouns but after they find it out it's gonna be she/her pronouns ok ok

The scent of his mom's expensive perfume hangs thick in the air, settling around him like a vice. He glances at himself in the scratched mirror, running his hands along his sides, letting them rest at his hips. He turns side to side, looking at every angle. 

His hair, all choppy and badly-cut in an endearing way, hangs over his face, his newly-aquired bangs pulled back by a pink butterfly barrette he pilfered from his little sister. It frames his made-up face, smokey eyeshadow at the edges of his eyes and movie-star red lips. 

Hugging him is a vintage blue party dress with little blue butterflies on the skirt, which he salvaged from a thrift shop not too long ago. His legs are dressed up in white pantyhose. On his feet are five-inch black pumps that he had practiced walking in for weeks; the last thing in his ensemble were a pair of oversized white socks pooling at his ankles. 

He looks in the mirror, letting out a big, huffing sigh. After deciding to braid several strands together (just because), he grabs his keys and shoves them in the pocket of his dress. 

"Mom, I'm going out, okay? I'll be back by two am!" He calls out, exiting the bathroom and clomping downstairs. 

"Alright, hon, have a good time! Don't drink too much," she calls back. 

 _Fuck, fuck, why am I doing this? This is such a bad idea, oh my god, fucking idiot,_ he thinks as he jams the key in the ignition. 

He backs out of the driveway, regret and hopelessness beginning to pool in his chest. 

He drives to the bar he knows Jamia will be performing at (she had extended an invitation to him earlier, he had declined, claiming that he 'had too much homework.') When he arrives, he searches for a parking spot (cursing double-parkers the entire time). Sighing, he opens the door, grabbing his purse and his jacket, tying the jacket around his waist. He slams the door shut and locks it. In front of the doors to the bar, he exhales loudly, rolling his shoulders back, and pushes in. 

Inside the bar, it's stuffy and loud, but the band can still be heard above the people. He pushes through the throng, catching sight of Jamia pounding on the drums like her life depends on it, her hand movements blurred and indistinct. When he makes it to the bar, several more people have entered the bar, and people are beginning to get wild towards the front of the crowd. He had no idea Jamia's band was this popular. 

"Hey," he hears, "you, the one with the funky vintage dress."

He turns around to meet the voice, and a pair of brown eyes. 

"Yeah?" he asks, making sure to raise his voice up an octave or so.

"I'm Mikey. That over there is my boyfriend Pete, and that's our boyfriend Patrick. So like, don't think I'm flirting with you. But I really like your dress. And your hair is- interesting, and stuff, I guess."

"Thanks. I'm Frances. Are you- uh- are you here for the band? Or are you here for the alcohol? Or both?"

"I'm here for the band. You?"

"Yeah, same. How'd you know about them?"

"They're like, local celebrities, dude, everyone here's heard of 'em. And they don't forget 'em, either. It's not hard with a name like Tit Collectors Anonymous."

Frank snickers, "I love their name. Also, yeah, I didn't really know they were local celebrities. I guess I kinda live under a rock. Or piles and piles of studying and notes and exams."

Mikey laughs, "you're in college, right?"

"I was, I dropped out. I'm kind of in limbo right now, y'know?"

"Mm, yeah, I get it. Hey, how d'you feel about a drink? On me."

"Sure, I guess. An IPA, maybe? Dunno what they have here, but I sure as hell am not gonna have fucking Coors. That shit is nasty, man."

Mikey smirks, fishing out his wallet and heading over to the bartender, ordering their drinks. A few minutes later, he heads back over to Frank, a Sam Adams IPA in one hand and a long island ice tea in the other. 

"A beer for the lady," he says, sliding the beer over to Frank and grinning.

_Lady. It doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would._

 

 

As soon as the girl walked into the bar, Jamia was entranced. As she slammed away at her drum set, she could barely take her eyes off of her. She was strangely entrancing, with her awful hair with the weird braid, the weird vintage dress, and the  _five fucking inch heels_ she was wearing. Jamia found herself wishing for the set to be over, so she could go talk to her. When they finally, _finally,_ finished the last song and packed up, she was glad to go the bar. 

The guy talking to the girl earlier had seemingly disappeared, so Jamia slid in behind the girl. 

"Um- hey? You, um," she says, only to be met with no response. It must be too loud for her to hear her. She reaches over, tapping the girls shoulder. 

The girl swings around, a beer bottle in hand. 

"Hey, I'm- uh, Jamia, I'm Jamia Nestor, and I couldn't help but notice you? And you look really- really interesting, I don't know, and I just wanted to, y'know, say hi? So like, hi. Um," she stutters out, suddenly very interested in the hem of her shirt. 

"You're the drummer? You're awesome, dude. I'm uh- I'm Frances," the girl smiles, her voice odd, almost masculine. She had an odd way she held herself, the girl, not looking wobbly in her giant heels, but a little more- unsure. Like those weren't her shoes, and she didn't belong in them.

"Nice to meet you, Frances."

 

Frank tipsily leaned in to Jamia's ear, whispering conspiratorily. 

"Hey, hey, Jamia, do you-" he starts to giggle, like a middle schooler, "do you have a crush on anyone? Got any frat boys back at college?"

"Nope- I'm," she begins to laugh wildly, "a les-beeeeean."

"But like- I'm really confus- confucius- confuss- aw, whatever. I'm really confuss because like- um, there's this guy, right, and his name is Frank. An' he's like my- my best friend, right, and he's nice, and funny, and pr-petty, in a really feminine way, because like, he's pretty? It's so confuszing, like do I have a- a crush on him? Do I like him? I don't kn-know. But like, I'm pretty sure hes gayyyy," she begins to giggle again. 

Frank begins to laugh as well. 

Both of them leave the bar in good spirits.

 

This becomes almost a tradition- every week on Fridays and Saturdays Frank dresses up as Frances, heads to the bar, watches Jamia's set, then chats with her afterwards. They become good friends, and Jamia forgets to ask Frank if he wants to come to the shows. 

 

She pulls on the corset, slowly lacing it up, making sure it's tight. When she has feminine curves, she runs her hands along her sides, sighing in relief.  _I'm me again._ She struggles with the bra (as always), but pulls it on, slipping in her 'boob inserts.' She pulls on stockings and her favorite dress, a vintage red off-the-shoulder with a flared skirt. She throws on some quick eyeliner, some chapstick, and then does her hair badly, in two messy pigtails. 

She heads downstairs, flopping on the couch, and putting on some bad soap operas.

"Hey there, Frances," Frances' mom greets playfully, "how's my lovely little lady?" 

She would be fine with it. Of course she would. Frances is just a chicken that doesn't like to sit down and talk about feelings. 

"Good. Hey, mom?" she asks. 

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can I- can I be your lovely little lady forever?" she asks. 

Silence.

"Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you. The neighbors have some goddamn construction going on in their yard, fuck."

"Way to ruin the moment, mom," she giggles, and her mom exits the kitchen, "it was gonna be cute, and sweet, and you just had to not hear me, didn't you. But yeah, mom, I'm trans."

"Okay, Frances. Make sure you don't throw any parties while I'm at work!"

"Don't I need friends for that?"

Her mom laughs. 

 

Jamia kept pestering Frances about her house, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to concede and show her a house.

"Dude, Frances, this isn't your house. This is Frank's house."

"I don't know who you're talking about. This is my house. Frances' house."

"Are you like, breaking in? Dude."

"No, I'm not breaking in, I have a key. I live here. This is my house."

"I'm one hundred percent sure this is Frank's house, not yours."

"This is my house."

"So you keep saying, but I know those pictures of Frank, those in the front hall. Except it looks like- like someone drew pigtails on him in sharpie? Frances, what the fuck is going on here?"

"Those aren't pictures of Frank. I don't know who Frank is."

"Frances, you're freaking me out here."

"Come on up, i gotta change into something more comfortable. This dress is chafing my armpits."

Jamia looks dubiously at Frances, but follows nonetheless. 

The pair walk in, and as Frances shoves open the closet door, Jamia appears shocked.

"Why are your clothes in Frank's... closet... Frank? Wait- Frances- Frank- FRANK!?"

"Not Frank. Frances."

"Dude, what the fuck, were you lying to me this entire time? You're just Frank, pretending to be Frances- scratch that, Frances doesn't exist! It's just- Frank, in a dress!" Jamia shrieks, one hand on each side of her head.

"I wasn't lying. This isn't a lie. There is no Frank, I'm Frances. Not Frank."

"So if this wasn't a lie, what is it? A giant ruse, a ploy, a game? What, you let me in, decided to dress as a girl just to- to fucking do- god, whatever the hell you were gonna do? What were you gonna do?" 

"Be a girl."

"So it's a fucking ploy then, a ruse, a game, but not, nooo, not a lie. Frank, stop fucking lying. I know you're Frank, okay, so just-"

"IT'S NOT A FUCKING PLOY, OR A GRAND RUSE, OR A GAME, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU THINK, OKAY? AND I'M NOT LYING. I'M A GIRL, AND IT ISN'T FRANK, IT'S- FUCKING- FRANCES," she shouts, suddenly enraged. Tears are streaming down her face, smudging her makeup and settling on her lips. 

She storms out, grabbing her jacket off the hook, stomping downstairs. 

Jamia stands stock still for a moment, unmoving, before she reels into action. 

"Fran- Frances! Frank, fuck, I'm sorry, come back!" she shouts, running down the stairs and catching the tail end of Frances' dress swishing out of the door. 

Wrenching it open, she runs after Frances, out of breath. 

"Frank, I'm sorry. I'm just, fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's Frances."

"Frances, yeah I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a dick, but it's kind of- it's kind of unsettling, you know, to know that your two best friends are actually just one person pretending to be two."

Frances scowls, crossing her arms, "you don't have two best friends. You have one."

"Yes! I know, but- to me, it seemed as if I had two. I love you."

At that, Frances breaks down, stepping forward and embracing Jamia in a tight hug. It doesn't take long for her to start shaking with tears. Jamia brings Frances' head up, leaning forward and kissing her softly. There is no tongue in the kiss, just a long, sweet, unmoving kiss. 

"I love you, too," Frances says through sobs, hands clutching desperately at Jamia's sweatshirt. 

After they settle down, they both sit on the curb, knees folded up against their chests. Their hands are intertwined, resting in between them.

"So, how did you find out?" Jamia asks, smiling.

"Well..."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who is sSUPER CGAYYYY for this series (spoiler: it me)   
> guess who is SUSUIPER GAYYYY FOR JAMIA AND FRANK AND THEN ALSO FRAMIA (that's me too)
> 
> and that's it folks (for this chapter lmao i need death) anyways yeah it's disjointed because my thoughts can never really align with my writing and the ending part where they were yelling and stuff was supposed to have a fistfight between the two but i forgot how exactly that joined with the story so i just had to leave it be,,, mediocre,,,, with no punches thrown


End file.
